


Paradise Found

by Z A Dusk (snakeandmoon)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Day At The Beach, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk
Summary: An angel, a demon, the sound of the sea, and the stars above. What could be more romantic?Or, Aziraphale speaks starfish, and Crowley loves him so much there's only one sensible course of action.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 124





	Paradise Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spooklock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooklock/gifts).



> A birthday gift for Spooklock, who suggested their honeymoon, sweetness and silliness, and a slice of tropical bliss. I hope you like it!
> 
> This isn't a bingo kisses fill, but I decided to stick with the 500 word limit. Help me, I've started writing 500 word fics and I can't stop.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

But Aziraphale’s laughing as he says it, and when Crowley pulls him from his seat, he goes willingly. There’s a moment where they both stumble, giddy from copious seafoam sangrias, and the fact that they can call each other a new word now. Husband.

“First dance is traditional, right?”

He enquires as he pulls the angel into his arms, swaying with him, feet finding purchase on the soft evening sand.

“Nothing about this is traditional.” Aziraphale giggles, his eyes twinkling. They hadn’t come here to get married. 

It had all started with a starfish.

The long white beach that morning was deserted, apart from an angel in the most terrible tartan board shorts Crowley could have imagined, and a large orange starfish. Which the angel was talking to.

“Angel … d’ya normally talk to the local fauna?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale looked up at him like he’d lost his mind. “They’re all God’s creatures, and one cannot say for sure what they understand. At the very least I am sure they understand intention … and he’s such a handsome starfish. Aren’t you? You must be very proud of your lovely colour …”

“Satan’s sake, I love you, you silly bugger. If we get married, it’s gotta be this beach.”

“Then make it this beach. Marry me, right now. We are not human, dearest, we need no preacher, or contract. Just your hand in mine.”

So they had, whispering vows in long-forgotten languages, under the endless blue sky.

And now Crowley is swaying in time to the soft strains of music from the beachside bar, holding an angel who’s smiling so brightly his halo is showing. He’s still wearing the daft board shorts, and Crowley’s still in his black swim trunks, because they hadn’t wanted to stop and get changed first. It’s so human and simple and fucking perfect, being in love under the tropical stars.

Aziraphale’s skin is still warm from the now-set sun, as if he’s kept its warmth to see them through the night. Crowley knows this because he can slide his hand across the angel’s waist as they dance, and let his palms explore his back. He can bend his head to press kisses to Aziraphale’s shoulders, tasting the sea there, and the unmistakable lightning and ink taste of the angel beneath the salt.

Aziraphale wanted rings made of real things from the earth they both love so much, not pulled from raw firmament. So they’re sporting wedding bands made from twisted strands of seaweed and tiny shells. 

Crowley can’t resist one small miracle, though, and Azirphale’s playful scowl turns to a joyous laugh as the music from the bar turns to that one song Crowley admitted always made him think of his angel.

Then Aziraphale, his husband, is kissing him over and over, and the night is alive with music and flower-scented breezes, and Crowley knows, he knows, that he would have gone through it all a hundred more times, if it meant he’d end up here.


End file.
